[agitated whisper] No, I am going to say something! This is not…
Hello? Excuse me? Hello?
Look, there seems to be a little bit of a mix-up. This is not what I ordered.
Yes, of course, I’m sure. I would never have ordered this. What do you mean by ‘maybe unconsciously’? Why would I unconsciously order this travesty of ideation? It literally looks like it was dragged backward through a vat of obscure references and sprinkled with delicate dandruff of niche nerd ingredients.
I, 100%, hand on heart, absolutely did NOT order this… [indicates plate] … whatever this is… from my brain just now.
No, no, believe me, I do appreciate the care that’s gone into how it’s arranged. Compliments to the brain kitchen. That’s not the point. What you have so theatrically laid out before me—really marvelous flourish and presentation by the way—belies the fact that this is not, by any definition, what I ordered.
I mean look, look here.
[Pulls out menu]
So, we had our starters. Excellent by the way. A magnificent selection of creative prose nibbles and ear-bending auditory snacks to whet the appetite and such. But theeeennnnn… here.
[Points to an item on the menu]
See? This is actually what I ordered
Daily Idea Special: Standard Fare
One standard, run-of-the-mill idea that won’t upset tummies, nor cause a case of the runs. Devoid of any exotic flavors or outlandish taste. Served warm to the touch. Totally relatable and joyously disposable. No nutrition data available.
THIS… [Indicates plate again, screws up nose] …is clearly not THAT.
Yes, I know it came out of MY BRAIN, but the point is that it looks nothing like the picture. You know, the vision?
This is…. Oof. I don’t even know what this is but it’s quite disturbing. Yes, disturbing, that’s the word. I mean, right off the bat the color is extremely offputting. And why is it making that weird sound when I poke at it? What is that sound? Is it moaning? And don’t even get me started on what’s happening over here in this zone. What is that? A sort of intellectual confetti? Nope. This is going to cause problems. No one is going to like this. It’s gonna get so many bad reviews on Yelp. Yes, they have a version of Yelp for Ideas. Where have you been?
This is getting us nowhere. I’d like to speak to the chef. Who is doing the cooking in my brain today? Is it Missy? I bet it’s, Missy. This is exactly the kind of stunt she’d pull. Don’t tell me she’s on break! No, I’m not causing a fuss. No one is getting upset. Bring me the chef!
OK, what about the proprietor? Someone must own this joint.
Hello, finally. Look, I just want someone to explain to me why this idea here—no, don’t turn away—is clearly not what I ordered. And if you think it is, I would like to lodge a formal complaint pointing out that it looks nothing like the picture in the menu for your so-called Restaurant on the Inside of My Skull. I mean… [indicates plate again] WTF is this?
No! As I told your colleague, I did not bloody-well order this! Don’t give me that excuse. Why should I be excited that this is what I got? More than I ordered? What do you mean MORE? What are you on about? Potential? Look, when I order shit from the idea kitchen, I want it to look exactly like it did in my head when I wrote down the damn recipe.
[Stares off, a wistful look on face]
You shoulda seen it—the vision was perfect. Flawless. It had all the unnoticeable proportions of a totally inoffensive thing. When read aloud, no hackles were raised, no outcries rippled across the oceans of public opinion. It had the kind of pulpy gloss that made folks nod their heads and hum in unison as they reached for their wallets. At its release in my vision, I instantly received ten calls from agents willing to represent me. I saw it all unfurl, a flag of magnificent beauty in the projector room of my brain kitchen, so I ordered it right up, lickety-split because I thought that sounds alright to me! In fact, that sounds delicious.
Where is THAT thing?
Yes, I know this confusion concoction came from the same place, but it is clearly not the same thing. Am I supposed to eat this WITH MY HANDS? Where do you even start? I’m scared that if I stick a fork in it it will literally explode in my face. It’s obvious to me that something happened between vision and execution and I just want to know what happened and who to fire. How are you running that kitchen back there? Is it OSHA compliant? I bet you have the mayo uncovered. Dollars to donuts, I bet the rancid mayo started all this.
“Happy accident?” What the hell are you talking about?
No, it’s NOT like the kid who accidentally ordered $2.6K of Spongebob Squarepants popsicles. Sooooo not the same. Yes, I agree that was indeed a happy accident—who wouldn’t want 918 popsicles?—but that kid got EXACTLY what he ordered: popsicles that look like a yellow sponge wearing square pants.
Who lives in a sewerage pipe under some sludge? Grunge Blob Sad Pants!
Is the chef coming out? Too scared to face me, eh? I’ll wait. Nothing else to do today. I don’t care how busy they are. Busy doing what? Making more crazy shit on the crazy shit production line with a crazy shit sous chef toasting crazy poop croutons all day?
Bring me the chef of this crazy ‘not what you ordered’ brain and I shall Gordon Ramsay the nightmare right out of this kitchen.
Where did everybody go?
I get it. This is the part where I realize that I AM the chef and we’ll have this real come-to-Janeen moment and start saying shit like, “Well, aren’t you glad your brain works in this way” and “It’s really magical.” Magical doesn’t pay the rent, Chef-o. Kook-bucks won’t fuel my retirement fund.
[Pokes at stuff on plate]
It is a little interesting, I guess.
And what exactly is that aroma? Did you use some of that stream of consciousness sauce? A little free-association spice? I’ve always wanted to try that.
[Looks around, furtively]
Maybe just one little bite…
0 friends, 2 reviews
I eat here ALL THE TIME and have never once gotten poisoned. Once you get over the fact that you never NEVER get what you ordered, it’ll become your favorite hangout for people-watching and pointless snacking. The staff is
aloof, which personally I like—never in your face, bother you only periodically to top up your energy reserves jug—and will listen sympathetically to your complaints while jotting down notes. Their eye rolls are only mildly annoying.
The premises, while chaotic, are tidy enough. I’m not saying I would eat off any surfaces in there, but maybe on a dare? For $5? Actually, maybe even only $1?
The cuisine is wildly inconsistent in final product, but never in quality. It’s weird, not whacky. That said, the vibe can feel super quirky at times, and you never know what kinda crowd you’re gonna get in there, but I for one love going inside the skull and taking a wild chance on the creative cuisine. Note: No substitutes!
PS: The dessert bar is OFF THE CHAIN!
Yours in tiny thought
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This week’s amends…
“My theory about creative work is that 99 percent of it is intention. When you go in with the intention of exploring something real, then that’s what you’ll get no matter what’s around it. It may not even be successful—people may not like it and it may make no money—but that is what you’ll have. And if you go into something with the intention of showing off and just being absurd for absurdity’s sake, then hey, that’s what you’ll get. I’m interested in trying to find a real moment between people, and hopefully that’s what people get out of my work.”
- Charlie Kaufman
On Rotation: “Ah Yeh” by Beak>
The Voice Break Choir.
Lil’ rescue foxes being given egg treats. I mean, come on!
Via Boing Boing
Did any of this spark a tiny thought of your own?